


Blood and Water

by Wordpainter15



Series: Songbird Nocturnes [1]
Category: Splatoon
Genre: Don't need to read in order, Found Family, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Non-Graphic Violence, Octoling Society, Original Character-centric, Prequel, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:46:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25100359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wordpainter15/pseuds/Wordpainter15
Summary: "The blood of the convent is thicker than the water of the womb"Cicatriz has no care for the waters that birthed her- after all, all cephalopods know to fear the water.A series of potentially nonlinear one-shots of Scarfish's life before Off the Hook.
Series: Songbird Nocturnes [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1817578
Kudos: 5





	Blood and Water

**Author's Note:**

> I have no control over the voices in my head; I simply write their stories. So here's what conked me in the head and refused to let go. Some snapshots of varying lengths of Scar's life in the domes and sometimes from times before that. Title theme: "cut off quotes". I know a lot of these are probably just add-ons, but they make good chapter titles. You don't need to be following Unheard Songbird to read this- but it is basically all oc-centric so, if that's not your cup of tea, you are warned.  
> Also, this will have spoilers to something I've been alluding to in Songbird. I'll try to not put in spoilers until they show up in Songbird

**"** **Life here is earned. It is fought for. It is recycled. It is valued. You fight for life. Your specie's life, civilian life, your platoon's life, your own life. In that order. Many things have died, but you have not. You still _live_."**

 **~Elder Chief Octavius IV, "Introduction",** **Octarian Military Handbook, Volume I, Edition XVIII**

(Prologue)

It is as it always is. Static. The buzzing noise of whirling machinery. Motorized spawn pads, the fritzing of lights breathing their last breath. The marching of soldiers blurs into the monotony of the background. The lights of their flashlights illuminating their way more than the dying lights of this dying dome. It’s feeder dome, the one it drew its energy from, had lost its zap fish to the inkling menace weeks before. Relatively speaking- it’s a miracle that the dome had enough reserves to even power the electric fence that guarded it.

Pink ink leads the way. Two frontliners cautiously approach with weapons ready to fire. Etoile is nervously trilling beside her, the medic’s tentacles curling at the tips as she limps forward with one arm wrapped around her leader’s shoulder.

“There is nothing out here,” her leader soothes and pats her shoulder.

“We don’t know that for sure,” Etoile weakly denies and winces when she accidentally grazes her bad ankle on a piece of old machinery. “What if we see something out here, Sergeant? We are low on supplies and I can’t fight like this!”

“Keep that ankle up,” her sergeant interjects, “There’s nothing out here. No food has been delivered to this dome in months. If something is here, it’s on the verge of death.”

“Sergeant!”

The two octolings look up as another jumps out of the pink ink trail and salutes her commanding officer. The stiff posture loosens at the nod she’s given and the octoling loosely crosses her arms behind her head.

“We don’t see nothin’ up ahead, but there’s an abandoned building. Let’s get the shrimp inside and fix up her ankle.”

“Don’t mock your medic, Aquila. Piss her off enough and she might not heal you the next time you bash your head into the wall.”

“What?!” Aquila gasped in mock horror before leveling a smirk on Etoile. “You wouldn’t do such a thing, would you Etoile?”

“Move it, soldier!”

Her sergeant’s stiff words shock Aquila back into position, hand to her forehead in a firm salute. Pink ink splatters, a droplet landing on the blank tentacles of the platoon’s leader, as the soldier drops back into the ink trail.

“Can you swim without hurting yourself?” Etoile gives an answering nod. “Good. You swim ahead, I'll cover your six.”

“Thank you, Sergeant.”

The abandoned building requires quite a bit of force to break into. Aquila and her sister, Tuuli, failed to open it even with their combined weight. The two soldiers resorted to using Tuuli’s roller to break down the door- falling through the entrance as an undignified heap on the ground. The two burst out in a fit of laughter, Aquila’s a little more breathy as her sister crushes her lungs.

“Up! We’re still working.”

The two follow the command, helping their injured member onto a box and digging through Etoile’s bag, looking for something to ease the pain.

“We don’t have any more splints. If _someone_ would just follow orders maybe Etoile would be able to walk on her own,” Tuuli snarks at her sister who is rummaging through the litter to find something that can be used to brace the octoling’s limb.

“I was following guidelines! We needed that energy source to even get in here anyway!”

“You follow _my_ guidelines,” the sergeant interjects with a side look to Aquila. “And next time you let it fall. I’m not losing a soldier to a ledge of all things.” A small smile crosses her face as she ruffles Aquila’s hair and receives a huffy pout. “But to be fair, you did secure the battery.”

“Sergeant... I think- I think this was an Inlustro lab,” Etoile stutters, “Look at markings on the doors.”

The black tentacles swirl as the octoling wipes the dust off the wall, revealing the radical group's insignia. She hears her soldiers shuffle warily behind her. Tuuli and Aquila both grasp their weapons in vice grips, positioning themselves in front of their injured member.

“If those sick bastards are here-”

“Nothing’s here. Like I told Etoile, anything here died ages ago. No food for a year.”

“It’s the Inlustro- they’d make deals with an inkling to get what they want,” Etoile murmurs gain a frantic edge as she grasps her brella.

“If there’s anything here that’s not dead, I’ll kill it myself. You two take care of her. I’m going to look for anything that we can take back. Maybe someone can get rid of these narcissistic low lives for good.”

The three soldiers lower their heads as their sergeant breaks through the door separating the front room from the rest of the laboratory. 

“Be careful Celine,” Etoile pleads as Tuuli returns to her search of finding a suitable brace. Aquila remains facing the entrance, octo shot raised and ink tank bubbling with fresh ink.

“I’ll be just fine. I’m just going to take a quick peek.”

Celine keeps her sniper raised and charged as she slowly walks through halls. The place definitely seemed abandoned- the only remains of life she found being the opened refrigerator that had long since warmed. Empty boxes labeled by chemicals, a few discarded scalpels, and food wrappers. All with OM logos and all stolen. The Octarian military would never waste such valuable resources on these bottom feeders. What these pitiful excuses of octarians were _doing_ here, Celine could only guess. The other rooms had steel tables and beds. A small dining area with the remains of a fire pit. No paper trail, the only useful thing Celine would’ve liked to find. She’s content to return to her team because she was firm in her statement that anything here was dead or close to it. Especially with the oxygen being shut off to this dome the moment her platoon returns with their notes on their survey of the area. One door taunts her at the end of the hall, the only one she hadn’t opened. 

Celine shakes the thought out of her head. If there was anything to find she would’ve found traces of it already. Her subordinate is injured and Aquila was one dumd decision away from joining her. Her platoon completed their job. She surveyed the machinery in a way only a former sci-ops could and her team roamed the dome looking for stowaways. The only living beings in this dome are them. The machines have died. Their shells rusting and already stripped of their valuables by her own hand. The lights held only the dimmest glow, any moment they too would become a part of this graveyard. No use mourning yet another dead dome. Not when her platoon is still breathing and the rest of their home struggling to breathe under the lack of resources. It’s time to let the dome die- to take the salvageable scraps, exit the dome, and unplug the life support.

Even so, her hand grips the last doorknob. There’s nothing in there. Nothing worth finding. But what kind of scientist can resist not knowing? The door clicks open and slams against the wall with a harsh push. A squeak sounds through the air and the noise stiffens Celine. Charger raised, the elite octoling nudges the door open and the flashlight component scans the room. It’s not needed though.

The thing is glowing.


End file.
